


Cover Me

by Hannigrammatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Hannibal, Bottom Will, M/M, Rimming, Spanking, Top Hannibal, Top Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:36:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6623512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will is an officer at a local prison, and Hannibal is the very well behaved inmate. </p><p>They meet every Thursday for a 'session'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lunchtime

**Author's Note:**

> Smut was needed! ALSO!!! My first bottom Hannibal fic!

_Lunchtime_

Utility belt jiggling and the end of his baton slapping lightly against his leg, Will casts one last look over his shoulder towards the cafeteria. All is clear.

Hannibal Lecter is being returned to his cell by another officer, Harvey. The old man looks tired, and he’s off in fifteen minutes, so Will, ever the polite one -the nice one who buys coffee for everyone at the start of shift- offers to take the criminal off his hands. Harvey smiles, the wrinkles at his eyes becoming more apparent, and leaves after profusely thanking the young man.

“Hello, Mister Graham,” Hannibal greets politely.

Will flashes a brief smirk towards a handsome face; graceful cheekbones, pouting lips, and narrowed maroon eyes. The criminal is one of the most well-behaved ones in the prison, and he often provides engaging conversation. He’s also tall and he has a wide chest, and strong arms and thighs as thick as tree trunks -well, not quite as thick, but fuck if they don’t distract Will, even in the plain grey uniform inmates are required to wear. 

He glances in the direction of the camera he knows is coming up in the long white hallway, and when they pass it, Will maneuvers Hannibal and himself into the blind spot, shouldering into a doorway with his hand securely guiding the inmate.

“A detour?” Hannibal asks with a smirk that is heard in his voice, an inside joke that is as familiar as the route they’ve just taken, a phrase voiced as if they didn’t visit this place very often.

Will shuts the door and flips on the light. They’re in a storage closet, the one hardly anyone uses because it’s so far out of the way. The metal shelves against one wall are dusty, and old mop bucket is tipped over on its side. 

“Shut up,” Will says.

He does so good-naturedly, though, and Will finally meets Hannibal’s eyes, his own blue ones glittering with mirth. They’ve been here before, and they would return next week -Thursdays are their _day_ , and since it’s been established, they haven’t missed a ‘session’. Today, Will feels like changing up the routine, however.

“Strip,” he commands.

Hannibal tilts his head in that way he has that reminds Will of a cat, and maroon eyes narrow. Long, elegant fingers reach up and pull at the zipper on his uniform, and he pulls it down slow, ever so slowly while he continues to look into Will’s eyes. Pupils dilate and nostrils flare, and Will inclines his head and turns his gaze to Hannibal’s hands. 

_Fuck_ , Will curses inwardly. 

It shouldn’t be possible for a man to look so beautiful, especially one in a goddamn plain onesie suit that a hundred other inmates wear in this prison. Will pushes Hannibal into the wall next to the door, and then boxes him in with his arms on either side of close-cropped silver-brown hair. He wishes the soft locks were longer so that he could grip them better, but regulation says each inmate has to keep their hair a certain length.

“You’re not doing it fast enough,” he hisses into Hannibal’s face.

The taller, older man rests his head against the wall and moves faster, pulling his arms out of the sleeves and letting it hang off of his trim waist. Will looks down between them, from his dark blue and close-fitting officer uniform, to Hannibal’s bared chest. His favorite part is the forest of curly, coarse hair there, and he wastes no time in tangling the fingers of one hand into it and tugging none too gently.

“Incompetent,” Will says, just to look up and watch Hannibal’s fine lips twitch.

Then he grabs the hanging fabric of the onesie and tugs it down harshly, and Hannibal is forced to step out of it or trip, and he would never trip because that would compromise his dignity. 

Will takes his time folding the grey outfit and setting it aside on a shelf, leaving Hannibal naked. He doesn’t wear his underwear on Thursdays.

“How will you have me?” the man asks quietly, his accent driving Will crazy -in a very pleasant way.

“Against the wall. Turn around.”

Obeying, Hannibal turns and braces himself along the wall, strong hands flat on the brick. Will takes his time to admire the view, rippling back muscles, lean waist, and gorgeous, supple asscheeks just _waiting_ for the officer’s attention. He could sense Hannibal’s gaze as the man peered over his shoulder, but he didn’t offer any comments or praise. Not yet.

“What have you got to say for yourself?” Will asks.

When it becomes obvious that he’s waiting for an answer, Hannibal sniffs at the air, and then says, “He deserved it.”

“I’m sure he did.”

Will smirks, eyes not leaving Hannibal’s fit body. He reaches for his belt and eases the baton out, grips it in a slightly sweaty hand before he casually taps it forward into the center of the inmate’s back, between his shoulderblades. It’s a gentle touch, and yet Hannibal shivers very slightly. Another smirk, and Will moves closer until he’s plastered along the man’s body. He reaches around with the baton and sets the metal against Hannibal’s neck and forces him to move with it, closer to the officer’s face.

“Bad boy,” Will whispers hotly into his ear. 

And then he takes a step away, retracting the baton, and sets his free hand on the small of Hannibal’s back. He looks up, catches maroon eyes wide with blackened pupils, and makes sure to show the whites of his teeth when he grins.

The first hit of the baton strikes the outside of one thick thigh, and it’s not gentle. Will feels Hannibal’s body twitch once, but other than that he shows no sign that the strike pained him. The second and third smack against his ass, one per cheek, and Will focuses there for a few minutes longer, looking away from narrowing eyes to watch the flesh of Hannibal’s asscheeks turn red. It’s mesmerizing, and the officer stops abruptly to return the baton to its holster, replacing the cold instrument with the palm of his hand.

“Luckily for you, most people are too stupid to notice your manipulations, so you’re still noted for your exceptionally proper behavior,” Will murmurs as he strokes lightly at warm, reddened skin. “Ah, no -don’t say anything. I’m not done with you yet.”

Will flattens his hand and slaps Hannibal’s right asscheek, and then his left, wishing he could strike harder and faster without being heard. He’s satisfied with being able to do this, however, and even more so when he can squeeze and knead the ample flesh of Hannibal Lecter’s ass. He wants to linger here in this moment, but a glance at his watch informs him he doesn’t have long. Huffing, Will unclips his belt, flicks the button on his pants, and slowly drags the zipper down.

“Turn around, and get on your knees, Lecter,” the officer commands.

The man obeys once more, and once his knees hit the cold tile and his body assumes a submissive position, Will reaches forward and grasps at the soft strands of his hair. He pulls slightly until the kneeling inmate is forced to look up. Maroon eyes and a scattered blush across sharp cheekbones meets his gaze, and Hannibal is panting very slightly. Will’s grin eases into a smile.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers. “Now suck me.”

Hannibal closes his eyes and tilts his head into Will’s palm. He looks like a cat enjoying the attention of its owner, and it’s a sight that burns itself into Will’s mind when the man’s long fingers reach into his pants and release his half-hard cock. 

Will doesn’t wear underwear on Thursdays either.

“Easy,” Will sighs.

Hannibal hasn’t looked away from Will’s face, and he doesn’t as he palms the officer’s hardening cock, thumbing the head and rubbing against the slit. He pulls away and licks his palm, and then returns to stroke and squeeze and pull, and even then he continues to gaze deeply into Will’s eyes. It should be disconcerting -and it is, just a bit. Mainly it’s sexier than anything Will could put words to, and he shuts his eyes on a long blink and focuses on the soft, teasing touches being dealt to him.

“I said _suck_. Unless you’re looking for another punishment.”  
The inmate’s eyes twinkle with intention briefly, before he uses his other hand to pull Will closer by the hip. He holds the thick cock in place and then finally looks away to accept the length between pink lips. There’s no pause to adjust, no grunt of displeasure, just one slow, smooth movement, and then Will’s dick is encased in wet, heavenly warmth. He clasps his hands behind Hannibal’s head and holds him in place for a long minute, listening to wet, choking sounds that the man doesn’t bother trying to hide. It feels so good, and Will rewards the inmate with a quiet moan.

A teasing tongue presses against the underside of his cock, nudging at the thick vein there, the place that makes Will’s thighs tremble just a bit. He relaxes his grip on Hannibal’s head, adjusts it to run his fingers through impossibly silken locks of hair -and then the kneeling man is moving, relaxing his throat as he thrusts his mouth onto and off of the thick cock, sucking at the tip hard when Will isn’t expecting it and then swallowing him down without preamble. 

Will twitches bodily, grasps soft hair tighter, and steers the pace into something approaching brutal. Hannibal chokes, and spittle gathers at the sides of his mouth. Precome beads onto his lips, and he’s quite a mess very quickly. Will _loves_ it.

“Stop,” he grunts. “Stop it.”

Hannibal obeys once more, however this time he does it slower. Pulling off of the wet cock, he looks upwards and deliberately licks his lips, eyes almost entirely black now when they meet Will’s own. 

_Such a good boy_ , he doesn’t say.

He can’t reward the inmate too heavily, after all. 

“Up, hug the wall again. Spread your legs.”

When Hannibal is once more facing the wall, legs spread and ass still pink from his punishment, Will lets himself moan one more. He takes his dick in hand, jerks it a few times, his grip slippery and wet, and then he steps close again, guides it into place, and thrusts the head into Hannibal’s hole quickly. They both like it like this, not entirely dry, but enough that it’ll hurt -and quite sharply. Will pushes the rest of the way in at a slower pace, though he doesn’t do it for Hannibal’s benefit; the man can tolerate more pain than most people. He does it for his own, so that he can enjoy the slow crawl into snug warmth, and the pressure around his cock from the fluttering, clenching rim of Hannibal’s entrance.

Will mouths along the taller man’s shoulder and licks a stripe up his neck when he bottoms out. His arms come around a thick chest, and he strokes his fingers downwards, into coarse hair that curls around a leaking, hard cock. He utters quiet praises and then pulls out only to thrust home almost harshly, combining that with a sudden, tight grip around Hannibal’s twitching length. At this, the man moans loudly and presses his cheek into the cold wall. Will shifts, still clothed, grips strong hips in both hands, and then fucks into the willing body in front of him. The pace is brutal now, a primal course of action that has them both sweating and grunting and trying not to be _too_ loud.

The belt jangles at his waist, and Will shuts his eyes tight and sighs loudly when he finally comes, seated deep inside of Hannibal. He lays along the strong man’s body afterwards and doesn’t pull out.

“No,” he whispers.

“I know,” Hannibal grumbles. “I do not deserve to come.”

Will laughs breathlessly and finally pulls out. He wipes himself down with a rag from the shelf -a cleaner one that he replaces before their ‘sessions’- and then he puts himself away. Once he’s adjusted his pants and cinched his belt, he takes a step away and appraises the sight before him. Come leaks out of a well-used hole, painting the back of strong thighs as Hannibal continues to stand where he is. Will lightly slaps one ass cheek just to watch the sticky mess become worse, more white viscous fluid leaking out of a reddened rim.

“Clean yourself and then get dressed. Then I’ll take you to your cell. Lunch is almost over.”

Hannibal obeys once more. Later, once the inmate has been returned safely to his cell, Will saunters into the break room and smiles politely at his co-workers. He sits down to eat his own lunch on break and smirks into his food after the last person leaves the room.


	2. Switch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No harm in switching it up once in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =D And done~ Thank you to everyone who has read, commented and kudos'd ♥ You're all the lights of my life ^_^
> 
> Not beta read~

_Lunchtime, next week_

When the door closes behind Lecter this time, Will isn’t prepared for what happens. One second, Hannibal is in front of him, hands dutifully at his sides, and the next, he’s turning around faster than the officer can track.

Will’s baton slides out of it’s holster swiftly, and in a mimic of last week, the smaller man is turned around and clasped tightly to Hannibal’s chest, his back pressing into warmth and muscle. The cold metal of the weapon is jerked against his throat and held there with enough pressure that Will is forced onto the tips of his toes to avoid being choked.

“I have decided that it would entertain me to take on your role this week,” Hannibal whispers into his ear. “I do hope you won’t mind.”

“You could have asked,” the officer grunts. “I’m amenable to switching it up.”

“And spoil the surprise?” hot breath puffs along Will’s ear and neck in a short laugh, and he shivers.

He’s shoved against the wall in the next second, and held there steadily with one large hand between his shoulderblades. The baton _tip-taps_ upon a strong thigh.

“Remove your belt and set it aside,” Hannibal commands.

Will sighs and considers disobeying -in the end he unclicks the thing and the holster for his various weapons, and sets it on the shelf nearby. He’s barely finished the action when Hannibal’s got his pants undone and dragged down his pants to pool at his ankles, leaving his lower body bared to the air and the hungry sight of darkening maroon eyes. 

“I’ve never penetrated you before,” Hannibal murmurs almost reverently.

“No, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been penetrated before,” the officer responds. “Not to mention recently.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Will opens his mouth to answer and then shuts it with a click, nearly biting his tongue. The baton has returned, but now it’s stroking up his inner thigh until it comes to rest beneath Will’s balls. Hannibal gently taps the cool metal there, as if testing the weight of the officer’s vulnerable parts. Sweat begins to bead on Will’s brow.

“I guess this is the part where I shut my mouth, huh?” Will can’t keep the attitude from slipping into his voice despite the situation.

No answer.

Hannibal retracts the baton and moves closer until he’s flush against Will’s body, bending him towards the wall more fully. The cold metal returns to stroke along a flat stomach, and Will bites his lip on a moan as his muscles shiver under the unfamiliar touch. He’s not overtly concerned about Hannibal genuinely hurting him, knowing in a very large part of his brain that the man wouldn’t want to compromise his reputation in prison -with the authoritative side, as the man already commanded the inmate side. No point in tarnishing a possible early release for a little fun.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Hannibal says just then. “But first I’m going to punish you for being a naughty boy.”

Will shuts his eyes and feels his entire body tauten with anticipatory delight. He follows the path of the baton until it stops between his legs once more, gently snuggling beneath his hardening cock and lifting. The chilly metal surface has a shiver jolting up the officer’s spine. He opens his eyes to look down, taking in the sight of his length resting on the weapon almost innocently. The excitement in the air and the multiple sensations upon his body have the blood rushing south quickly. Even as he watches, Will’s cock begins to twitch and grow. Behind him, Hannibal grunts appreciatively.

Then the metal weapon is set aside with his belt. Hannibal rucks the back of Will’s uniform shirt up along his back. His long fingers stroke down the knobs of his spine softly before pausing at his tailbone. Will shuts his eyes once more and leans his forehead against the wall.

“The unmarked expanse of your body fills me with a dire need to change it,” Hannibal says, pausing to reach around and undo a few buttons on Will’s shirt. “To mark you as my own, every part of you blooming in bruises of my own design.”

_Oh god. That shouldn’t be sexy_ , Will thinks.

“Alas, we have limited time, so for now this will suffice,” a warm hand clasps Will’s neck for a heartbeat, and then pulls the shirt off of one shoulder.

The warmth of Hannibal’s body leaves Will’s back, and the man has a moment where wants to _whine_ at the loss. He reigns it in and focuses on his breathing -suddenly that doesn’t matter, though. Will has the warning of stroking hands along his hips as Hannibal kneels on the floor behind him, and then he’s burying his face into the officer’s ass as if he’s ravenous.

“Fuck!” Will curses, louder than he cares to be.

Hannibal, unable to respond, merely opens his mouth and firmly wriggles his tongue passed the tight ring of muscle around Will’s hole. His grip on bony hips tighten, holding the smaller man in place as he feasts on tender, incredibly sensitive flesh. When it becomes apparent that Will has no intention of moving away from the pleasure of his tongue, he uses one of his hands to instead spread one asscheek wide, giving him more room to work. He can feel the trembling taking over Will’s body, starting in his legs, and when he pulls away and climbs to his feet again, the officer is biting into the skin on his forearm, bruising himself in order to remain silent.

Hannibal grins and licks his lips of the lingering taste of the beautiful creature before him. He longs to return his mouth to that moist, hot place, to partake of the scent and flavor again and again. Instead he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth until they are liberally soaked, and then he pushes them into Will’s body without any hint or warning.

“Mmmn,” Will’s moan is barely audible, and when he hears the end of it, Hannibal shuts his eyes as if listening to a symphony while his fingers fuck into the shaking body in front of him.

“When you were last penetrated, did it feel like this?” he asks.

He moves close until Will is crushed against the wall, and his fingers curl in deep. He teases the officer’s prostate only briefly, scenting the man and the air around them. Will is close, perhaps more so than he expects. Hannibal brings his mouth to the shorter man’s ear and nips at the shell of it.

“Not like this,” Will hisses.

He shudders as if a chill whips through his body.

“Do you enjoy this more? Do you prefer my fingers inside of you, causing you to sing such a song for me?” a crook of fingers, and Will twitches as his prostate is nudged more firmly.

“Yes,” the officer confesses.

“Do you want my cock, Will?”

_Oh yes, please_ , Will doesn’t say. Instead, he cries out and reflexively reaches for his hard, weeping cock. Hannibal growls and presses him closer to the wall, until he can’t fit his hand between it and his body. Unforgiving brick meets him, and he groans in complaint.

“Answer me,” the accented voice grumbling in his ear is a sound that carries more command and sexuality than anything the officer has ever heard.

“Yes, I want your cock,” Will nearly shouts. “Inside of me. Deep. Fuck me, Hannibal.”

Hannibal smirks wide and removes his fingers. He reaches for the zipper on his uniform and drags it down slowly, maddeningly so. He can feel Will’s gaze from over a shaking shoulder, though he doesn’t meet it. When he grasps his cock and pulls it out, it’s already hard, coaxed and pleased by the man before him, and his soft, mewling sounds. Innocent and vulnerable -and then anything but that. Will is both parts predator and prey, just as Hannibal is.

But only for each other.

The older man lines himself up after a few quick strokes, aided by the precome leaking copiously out of the tip of his cock. He pushes inside of Will’s damp, twitching hole slowly. Inch by inch he sinks, and he watches his thick length disappear, devoured by Will’s greedy body. When he’s in as deep as he can manage, he pulls the officer away from the wall, embracing his chest with one arm, while the other crosses his hip, wrist dragging briefly over a cock no longer crushed into the brick.

“Beg me to move,” Hannibal speaks in a steady voice.

“Please move, please fuck me,” Will nearly chokes on his own breath in his haste to beg the man to _move, please fucking move_.

Hannibal pulls his cock out until the tip kisses a spasming, hungry hole. Then he thrusts inside in one single, harsh movement. Will’s body would have hit the wall if Hannibal weren’t holding him tightly. The officer is beside himself, marvelling at how entirely Hannibal has managed to unravel him, and indeed at how _perfect_ the cock feels encased inside of him, as if the organ belongs there, snug and thick and comfortable. He presses his ass into the hard body behind him and begs for more, voice escalating until Hannibal is forced to cover his mouth with a large hand.

The inmate tightens the arm across Will’s midriff, and then he fucks the officer, hard and fast and relentless. The only sounds that escapes his grip on Will’s mouth are quick, breathy little things as Will shakes apart in his grasp. Hannibal shuts his eyes and inhales deeply at the sweat-damp neck in front of him, taking in the wholesome scent of his boy as he thrusts in and out of his tight heat, and listening to the sound of slapping flesh that rises between them. Only when he is on the verge of coming does Hannibal relax his grip and shift it to squeeze Will’s cock, stroking upwards and pinching at the wet tip.

Will comes with a loud grunt behind Hannibal’s hand, and he manages to draw one of the man’s fingers into his mouth to sink his teeth into. Hannibal allows himself a moment to lose control, growling loudly into Will’s neck, and he releases deep inside of the officer moments after the man has finished orgasming, drawn to the edge and over by the contracting muscles embracing his cock and the sharp pain singing in his hand. The older man sinks his teeth into Will’s shoulder in answer and marks what he can with what time he has, lapping at the bloodied wound afterwards. Only when Will’s violent shudders have subsided does he release the man to step away and clean himself.

“Will,” he calls smugly. “Are you able to stand up straight?”

“Heh,” the officer pants. “I don’t think I’ll be able to even sit for the next several days, let alone do that.”

Hannibal smirks and cleans Will’s lower body tenderly, wiping the wall down where thick ropes of come had coated it. He assists the officer in pulling his pants up, and then moves away while the man retrieves his utility belt and cinches it back around his waist. The baton is returned to its holster, the weapon innocent once more. Will takes in a deep breath and exhales it as he turns around to face Hannibal. They gaze into each other’s eyes for a long moment, blue on maroon, and then Will smirks, tips of his white teeth bared.

“Definitely amenable to switching it up,” he remarks. “And often.”

“Perhaps we ought to alternate on our Thursday ‘sessions’ for now on,” Hannibal suggests.

Will chuckles, breaks eye contact and wipes his hand across his mouth. When his skin comes away stained red, he peers down at Hannibal’s injured finger. He doesn’t apologize.

“Until then,” the officer says.

“Indeed,” the inmate agrees.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will feature bottom Will ;3


End file.
